


An 18 Karat Run of Bad Luck

by SaberAltered



Series: Que Sera, Sera [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 23:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaberAltered/pseuds/SaberAltered
Summary: The Courier’s final thoughts before getting shot.And also the prologue to Que Sera, Sera.





	An 18 Karat Run of Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So I wrote a quick thing about what was going on through Nina’s head as Benny was making his grand speech before shooting her. And yes, it is the prologue to Que Sera, Sera (which I will be continuing in December). So, enjoy, and happy Friday the 13th!

_Fuck_ , the back of my head hurts like a bitch when I wake up from... wait. I don’t even remember falling asleep. All I remember is that I was walking out of Primm one minute, and then getting tackled by a Great Khan the next.

I open my eyes to see that my hands are bound, and an attempt to get them out is fruitless. I try to move my feet, but it turns out they’re tied up as well. Great, it’s freezing as fuck, and I’m being held hostage. Hopefully Colleen will wise up and stay home instead of staging another suicide mission.

“You got what you were after, so pay up.” I hear some guy say, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“You’re crying in the rain, pally.” Someone else retorts.

Another voice scoffs. “Guess who’s waking up over here.”

I look up to see a few Great Khans and this one guy in a hideous black-and-white checkered suit, giving me this shit-eating grin from behind his cigarette smoke. Even the way he tosses the cigarette butt and smothers the embers makes me clench my fists.

“Time to cash out.” He says, stepping towards me.

“Will you get it over with?” The Great Khan to his right asks, as if he were a petulant child instead of a forty-something drug dealer or whatever.

The man in the ugly checkered suit holds up a hand, and the Great Khan shuts up. 

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain’t a fink, you dig?” He says, silencing the Great Khan with a glare. He reaches into his jacket, produces a shiny poker chip (the poker chip I was supposed to deliver to Vegas), and waves it, trying to mock me.  _Go ahead, I don’t give a fuck_.

“You’ve made your last delivery, kid.” He stows the chip back in his jacket. “Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”

Just when I thought this night could not get any worse, he pulls out a pistol, and shrugs like it’s no big fucking deal.

“From where you’re kneeling, it must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck.”

The funny thing is, it didn’t seem like that to me. It must have been the retribution that had been coming for me after all these years of taking lives, doing drugs, and watching the world burn around me. This must be what I get for breaking my mama’s heart before the Legion came for us, and snoozing in the basement while she was hoisted up onto a cross. Was this how she felt, way back then? Maybe I can ask her on the other side, once I’m done kissing her cheeks and apologizing for the ugly words I’d said to her.

I’m now looking down the barrel of Mr. Checkered Suit’s gun, and I feel no twist in my gut, nothing to indicate fear.

“Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.”

_Mama, te-_

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Nina’s final thought was supposed to be “Mama, te quiero” (Mama, I love you), but of course Benny just had to fire the gun right then.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
